


Aulë's Wrath

by Saetha



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aule is angry at Gandalf, Gen, MAHAL LOVES HIS CHILDREN AND WILL PROTECT THEM FOREVER OKAY, The Valar, and he tells him that, because Gandalf isn't exactly a great dude, post-LOTR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7709464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saetha/pseuds/Saetha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aulë is not please with how his children have been treated by the people of Middle-earth, particularly by Gandalf. Therefore, once Gandalf arrives back in Valinor, he tears him a new one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aulë's Wrath

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by posts and a subsequent ask on Tumblr by asparklethatisblue and tygermama. Exactly what it says in the tin - a short one, but it was requested that I put it on AO3 and I am happy to oblige. I find Gandalf as a character actually interesting but he isn't exactly a great or even good guy. And the way he treats the dwarves always makes my blood boil. Bloody old coot.

 

The Valar do not think.

Or rather, their thoughts are of such weight and alienness that they are utterly incomparable to what transpires in a mortal’s mind. It is the multitude of the world’s events that swirls in their minds, a billion sparks lightening up and vanishing within moments of a time span that is outside mortal’s perception. They see everything and yet can also pick out a single events – especially those whose children swarm the land, sea and sky. They can follow the fates of their offspring through the multiple streams of time and space.

When the ship with the last mighty elves after the War of the Ring arrives it is an event that even the Valar take note of. They are too mighty for a true physical form by far, but their presence can be felt on the shores of Valinor where many of the Eldar await the arrival of their kin. There are welcomes and joy amongst those gathered and a sense of almost satisfaction spreads through the inhabitants of the Undying Lands. Some of the Valar are closer to their children than others – Yavanna fills the air with her singing, welcoming both the hobbits that have come and the Eldar alike to the shores of Valinor. Tulka’s laughter is heard in faint waves upon the wind, sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker, but always present. Others are more withdrawn and care rarely about the fate of those lesser than them – too unimportant they deem those who dare to live instead of simply exist.

Of all the Valar, Aulë is perhaps the one most involved with the affairs of the mortals and those who still dwell in Middle-Earth. He is connected to his children in a way that the others are not – their lives and fates have always been part of him and his grief is, perhaps, the deepest, sometimes not even soothed by the sweetness of Yavanna’s song. They are his offspring, made from the fabric of his own mind and shaped by his very own being and so he will always love them, even if the rest of the world has decided to shun them for what they are, for no other reason than them not being a part of the original song. Despite the vastness of his mind, Aulë will never comprehend why simple chance of birth should decide how others treat one.

Aulë is one of the Valar, however, and he does not forget. Not a single one of the slights against his people, of the insults and the effort that has been made to eradicate them from the good of Middle-earth’s history. He is not the vengeful sort, but he remembers and will not talk to the other children of Eru unless he knows that they have looked upon his own without hate or disdain.

So when the Maia Tharkûn, as Aulë‘s children call him, sets his feet on the shores of Valinor again after countless years of influencing the events across the sea on the behest of the others, Aulë never hides his disdain. Tha Vala’s mind is awash wish a thousand things simulatenously – he can hear the prayers of his children in Middle-earth and the fainter voices of those in the Halls. He knows of the echoes of excitmenet buzzing through some of his fellow Valar and the more tangible one of the Eldar when some of their own return to the shores, together with creatures they have never seen there before. And, what grates at him most, he feels the deep satisfaction that runs through Tharkûn, as if he has saved the world single-handedly, without the countless sacrifices of others.

Tharkûn, Maia that he is, knows about the mood around him and he does not fail to notice Aulë’s distant anger. And since he has never been one to leave business unfinished, he soon wanders closer to where the centre of Aulë’s spirit lies, now little more than a swirl of light and shadow in his true from as a Maia himself. There is no need for spoken words amongst two beings such as them, but the essence of their thoughts travels between without delay.  

 _Why do you spurn me?_ Tharkûn’s anger is palpable – he had expected to be celebrated, not dismissed upon his return to the Undying Lands. _Have we not won the war and restored peace to Middle-earth?_

 _So I have heard_. And yes, Aulë indeed feels a measure of gladness that the times of war and fighting are over in Middle-earth – for his children’s sake, he hopes that they will prosper again now. _But you do not seem to value everyone’s efforts against the darkness equally, Thark_ _ûn_.

In his human form, as it had been in Middle-earth, Tharkûn would have frowned. Here, the only sign of his annoyance is a shift in the light patterns and the tone of his thoughts.

 _What brings you to think as such?_ he wants to know.

A break in the pattern of thoughts and then something that is almost a wordless growl, before blinding light fills the space where Gandalf has come. When it vanishes, it leaves behind the imprint of a memory – not a scene from the past, but its impression in the fabric of space and time, strong enough for Tharkûn to recall the particular scene it is meant to represent.

The echo of his and Bilbo Baggins’ voices floats through the air, a conversation so many years ago that Tharkûn has almost forgotten about it, but the imprint of the words could not be clearer. Aulë’s memory is succint and will not fade when time has passed.

“There it is: dwarves are not heroes, but calculating folk with a great idea of the value of money; some are tricky and treacherous and pretty bad lots; some are not, but are decent enough people like Thorin and Company, if you don’t expect too much.“ Tharkûn, then known as Gandalf, can be heard to say.

 _If this is how you think of my children, I shudder to consider what you think of me._ The reproach in Aulë’s voice is sharp, like the crack of a whip in the air. Tharkûn recoils ever so slightly - the wrath of a Vala is a terribly thing and should never be underestimated.

 _I did what I had to do and gave the advice that seemed prudent at the time. It was all for the greater good_. His voice sounds firm but Aulë knows that he has shaken him.

 _You used them all,_ _Tharkûn, and do not pretend otherwise. But my children you treated as lesser than anyone else – their sacrifices did not even see a word of remorse or thanks from you. They have always been the unwanted ones, especially for you_. Aulë’s anger is like a fall of fire, burning everything in its way. Too long he has been silent, too long has he watched the other folks of Middle-earth spurn his children and declare them as lesser than they are.

 _I never treated them out of place-_ This time, Aulë does not even let him finish.

_Because, in your mind, they did not have a place on Middle-earth. Did you grieve when one Durin was slain by the monster in the deep? Did you grieve when Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews fell on the bloody plains before their ancient home on a mission that you had urged them on? No, you did not even think it valid to tell Gimli Glóin’s son that his uncle was dead before you entered the depths of Khazad-Dû_ _m, even though you knew. You do not care for my children, Tharkûn, and thus I will extend no care or friendship to you._

Aulë’s anger has turned from burning wrath to an icy flood and to his satisfaction he sees that it is all that Tharkûn can do not to tuck tail and run from him right this moment.

_Begone from my sight, Tha_ _rkûn. And do not bother to visit my Halls – you will find no welcome there._

There are no more words from the Maia in reply, but his presence slowly begins to fade from Aulë’s mind. It is not a hasty retreat – nobody could call it ’fleeing’ – but a retreat all the same. For a moment Aulë’s wrath flares up again. Tharkûn has seemingly not even attempted to defend himself, believing himself completely in the right with everything he has done and said. It grates at the Vala’s mind, especially knowing that there are plenty of others who feel the same, both amongst the Valar and the more mortal creatures.

Often enough he wishes that he could hold them all close and protect them, his ferocious children with their love for the earth and their craft and their fierce loyalty for each other. If only others would see their worth as much as he knows they have. Maybe, now that the age of peace has come, there will finally be more understanding in Middle-earth as well. He can only hope.

 

 


End file.
